One Night
by CarlieD
Summary: Tiva & McAbby, post Judgment Day. Because when you know you only have one night, your entire life becomes that night.
1. Tony and Ziva

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS, because if I did, Judgment Day never would have happened. _(sobs)_

**_Because when you know you only have one night, your entire life is that night._**

**PART I: Tony and Ziva**

_"Officer David, your liaison position has been terminated."_

_"Agent DiNozzo, you've been reassigned as agent afloat on the USS Ronald Reagan. Go home and pack your bags, you're flying out tomorrow."_

* * *

This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be leaving. Not tomorrow. It was too soon. He couldn't say goodbye to everything he cared about in his last twelve hours on US soil.

She couldn't be leaving. Israel might as well have been Pluto to him. It had never occurred to him before an hour ago that she could _leave_ him.

"It was inevitable," she murmured to him quietly as the team was miserably gathering their things. Ducking down to pick up her sunglasses, which had fallen to the ground, Tony saw her wipe at her face in irritation.

He knelt down next to her, brushing back a lock of hair from her face. "Nothing is inevitable," he whispered, feeling the beginnings of tears in his own eyes. They stared at each other a moment, then Ziva shook her head abruptly.

"I should go," she said softly. "I have a lot to arrange before my flight leaves tomorrow morning." She laughed wryly. "He could have given me more notice. I will not be able to arrange shipment of my things for at least another week. I do not have anywhere to stay in Tel Aviv, most likely will not find any open apartments for a month or two... I will be living at Mossad."

"I know," Tony said quietly. "Here, I'll come with you. To help you pack," he added quickly when Ziva raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "My flight doesn't leave until the afternoon and NCIS is taking care of my apartment stuff. You sound like you'll need some help."

Ziva's response was interrupted by Abby's heartbroken wails. "You can't be _leaving_ NCIS, any of you!"

"Abby, Abby, it's okay," they heard McGee console halfheartedly.

"No! No, it's not okay," Abby cried, bursting into the bullpen. "Tony is going on a ship far far away, and Ziva's going to another country far far away and you're leaving NCIS!"

"Abs, we don't like it any more than you do," Tony said quietly, as Abby threw herself at him.

"I won't let you leave! You can't leave!" Abby sobbed. "I'll, I'll, I'll handcuff you to your desk!"

"Abby," McGee said gently, tugging at Abby's arm. "Abby, come on. I'll take you home."

When the young agent had finally managed to propel the traumatized scientist into the elevator, still sobbing hysterically, Tony chanced a look at Ziva.

"I think I would like you to come," Ziva said quietly, a tear slipping free. "Not necessarily to help, but just for company."

"Company would be nice," Tony agreed softly.

* * *

The apartment was deadly silent as Tony closed the door behind him.

"I cannot believe she is gone," Ziva said after a moment. "Jenny... I never thought she would die the way she did."

"C'mere," Tony said softly, wrapping his arms around her. "I know you guys were partners, too."

"Partners?" Ziva scoffed, burying her head into his shoulder. "We were friends. We drove all through Eastern Europe together. We took heavy fire together. We took down terrorist cells together for two years."

"I'm sorry," Tony said softly. "If I'd listened to you in the first place, maybe Jenny would – " His voice cracked and he bit back the sob.

"It was not your fault, Tony. Jenny made her own choice. We tried to find her. We were too late," Ziva repeated, sounding a little robotic, like she was now trying to convince herself.

Tony just held her tighter, letting her finally break into sobs as he let the tears fall. Three years. Three years they'd been partners, and every last second of it, he now regretted. Because he had never acted on what he felt. Because he had listened to rule number 12. Because he was a train wreck after Jeanne. Because her one night with Michael Locke had felt like the biggest betrayal he had ever felt.

And now it was too late.

"Tony?" she asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder as the sobs slowly subsided. "Do you remember that night we went undercover?"

"When you first came to NCIS?" Tony asked. "Yeah, like it was yesterday." How could he forget? It was the first time he realized that he could be infatuated with something off-limits. That he could look, he could tease, he could touch, but he couldn't take. Couldn't love. Couldn't have.

"I wish we had done it for real."

The two looked at each other for a long time, before Tony opened his mouth to speak. Ziva put a finger over his lips, shaking her head, then she leaned in.

He gladly accepted her unspoken question, lips closing around hers just like they had all those years ago. Their tongues brushing, dancing, tasting.

"Ziva..." he said, as the need became more urgent and they crashed back against the wall.

"Tony..." she replied, undoing his shirt buttons rapidly. He tried desperately to get her dress undone, but damn it, why did women's clothing have to be so complicated? Frustrated, he gave up and settling for pulling down the top half of the dress. "Having wardrobe problems?" she gasped, stopping as his pants tumbled down around his ankles.

Despite the urgency and the trauma of the situation, they both laughed and Ziva twisted around to deftly undo what remained of the dress. Tony took the opportunity to get out of the rest of his clothes, teasing Ziva with kisses and caresses as she swatted at him. Without pretense, they both landed on the floor, Tony diving in to capture her lips once more.

"I liked that green dress you had then," he gasped, sliding into her without warning or preparation. "It came off easier." Oh, God, she was tight. Tighter than he expected. It was almost painful, but it still felt so damn good and _right_ that he kept going, filling her as far as he could go.

Ziva cried out in pained pleasure. Oh, God, he was big. Almost too big. She had needed more time, more foreplay to prepare herself. "Tony..." she moaned. "Tony, enough, you will rip me..."

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear, obviously trying to be gentler than normal for either of them. "It won't be long." He kissed her longingly, hungrily, as though it was their final moment on Earth. Sweat was beginning to break out on her body, her fingers curving around his hair and urging him onwards as he trailed kisses down her throat, tracing a path of fiery desire around her collarbone and breasts. Taking a nipple into his mouth, Tony began sucking steadily, making her scream with ecstasy. Her body was beginning to tremble, her legs tightening around him

He felt her coming almost before he felt himself coming. The way she dug her nails into his back as she screamed his name once more, letting a great cry of satisfaction escape as he released, dropping down in exhaustion.

They stared at each other for a long time, faces only inches apart as both tried to recapture their breath.

"Wow..." Tony said tiredly, catching a section of her hair in his fingers to play with. "Why haven't we done this before?"

"Rule number 12, Tony," she murmured.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there with her, awaking every few hours refreshed and hungry for more of Ziva David. He explored every dimple, every nipple, every curve and line and hollow, trying to memorize the sound of her voice crying out his name, the feeling of her skin on his body, her fingers tracing burning paths across his skin.

All he knew in those last precious hours was that they had gotten nothing practical accomplished when 2 AM arrived and she had had to get dressed and pack her bags.

He drove her to the airport, watched as she picked up her ticket and checked her baggage. Walked up the staircases with her and around the airport, trying to delay the inevitable.

"I have to go," she said softly as they stopped in front of the security gate.

"I know," he murmured in reply, resting his forehead against hers.

"Shalom, Tony," she whispered, pulling one last soft kiss from him before she left rapidly for the gates, passing through without another backwards glance.

"Goodbye, Ziva."


	2. McGee and Abby

_**Because when you know you only have one night, that night becomes your entire life.**_

_A/N: All right, all right, short and fluffy, I know. I might be starting in on a story for this one as well, once I get a couple more stories finished._

**

* * *

**

PART II: MCGEE AND ABBY

_"Agent McGee, you're being transferred to the Cyber Crimes Unit."_

* * *

She hadn't stopped crying since they had arrived back at her apartment. He felt helpless to do anything except hold her, rocking her and stroking the back of her head like he would Sarah, reassuring her that it would be all right, it couldn't be forever, everything would be back the way it was before long.

People called him methodical, precise to a fault. But Abby... Abby wanted – no, _needed_ – her routine. She wanted to be able to count on things happening at certain times and people always behaving the same way. She wanted to know that her machines were all sleeping and her radio was silent when she arrived at her lab in the morning. She needed to know that McGee would bring her the first Caf-Pow of the morning, and that Gibbs would always, _always_ bring her another one. Jimmy would always come up from Autopsy. Ducky would always call her Abigail, and the Director would always insist on heels and monkey suits in court. Tony and Ziva would always come down to check on her progress and stay to talk. Bert was always on the filing cabinet in the corner, and Bertha was always working. If somebody was gone from D.C., she always had her icons propped up somewhere in the lab, and pictures readily available to plaster on her screen.

Abby worked alone for that very reason. Her routines and her comfort zone didn't always jibe with assistants. Assistants would forget to turn off the machines, or put in the wrong CD. Assistants would move her materials around, and throw out her Caf-Pow cup collection. Assistants would call her "ma'am" or "Ms Sciuto". Assistants would touch the icons or knock them over (heaven forbid!) There were days that McGee was convinced that Abby was obsessive-compulsive.

* * *

"Abby, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," McGee said softly. "I"m not even moving off the Navy Yard. You'll still see me all the time, and Tony will be always calling headquarters."

"But you won't be _here_ at NCIS!" Abby burst out angrily. "And Ziva'll be gone forever! I hate him! Why did he do this?"

"I don't know, Abby," McGee said, rubbing her arm soothingly. "I don't know, but you gotta calm down, all right? We'll figure something out. C'mon, you must be exhausted, you gotta go to sleep. The last Caf-Pow must've worn off hours ago."

"But Tim," Abby said suddenly, using his given name for once as she grabbed his sleeve, "Who's going to bring me my Caf-Pow in the morning?"

McGee couldn't hold back the laugh. "I'll get up extra early, Abby, just for you and your Caf-Pow."

Abby gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, Timmy," she said with a tremble as she threw her arms around him. "Stay with me tonight?"

* * *

She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, long slender fingers wrapping possessively around his hands as he pulled her close to his body.

McGee sighed and watched her sleep for a while. He wondered what Tony and Ziva were thinking of tonight, as they packed and prepared to leave. He wondered how long it would be before Gibbs killed Assistant Director – no, Director – Vance. Gibbs wouldn't allow them to be split up so easily. It would be like a father letting Social Services take his children – and Gibbs didn't let any Social Services person take his children.

He wondered why lying in a satin-lined coffin with Abby sleeping in his arms wasn't weird any more.


End file.
